


Desire Made Real

by UntoldHarmony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UntoldHarmony/pseuds/UntoldHarmony
Summary: She was a reluctant witch living in the world of humans. He was a powerful man walking in the shadows. Their paths crossed because of magic but is it enough to keep them together when the rest of the world is trying so hard to tear them apart? Only time will tell since, after all, magic is just desire made real.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Familiar themes from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. This story is inspired by A Discovery of Witches, first book of the All Souls Trilogy, by Deborah Harkness.

* * *

" ** _As far as I can tell there are only two emotions that keep the world spinning year after year... One is fear. The other is desire._** "  
\- Deborah Harkness, _A Discovery of Witches_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The wind whipped through her hair as she jogged down the cobblestone pathway by the side of the River Thames. The morning light was barely passing through the trees and the grass lining the path was wet with dew. A soft breeze created a rainfall of red, orange, and yellow leaves around her. Oxford in the autumn was beautiful, and Hermione was more than happy she was back at the university town for her research.

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and gazed across the river. It was still early, barely seven in the morning, so there wasn't a lot of activity by the riverside. She spied another runner on the other bank and a crew rhythmically gliding over the river's surface on their sculling boat. She smiled as she watched their early morning practice. Her thoughts were taken back to her crew days during undergrad. She remembered the morning practices well, their coach eager to get them out on the water before it got too crowded. She had stopped rowing competitively but she still enjoyed being on a boat by herself. The rhythm of the oars hitting the water was like a second heartbeat she had grown to know.

She glanced at her watch and made the decision to head back to her rooms. She had made plans with her friend and fellow historian Lavender Brown to meet for breakfast at nine. Lavender had surprised her yesterday when Hermione gave a lecture on her latest paper. She and Lavender were classmates back in Cambridge who turned to eventual colleagues. While Hermione focused more on the history of science, Lavender's focus was classical history. Competition came easily between the two women but they enjoyed each other's companies and grew to be good friends. Yesterday during her lecture was the first time she and Lavender had seen each other in years and Hermione was eagerly looking forward to catching up with her again.

Hermione grabbed her ankles and bent her knees in a stretch to prepare for her run home. She steadied her heartbeat and broke into a sprint along the riverside.  _Pat, pat, pat_. She timed her breathing to her feet hitting the ground. Running was her escape. All her thoughts and problems left her mind as she ran.

She inhaled sharply in surprise when she stepped on a loose rock on the path.

Hermione felt herself being propelled forward by her speed and prepared to brace her fall by putting her hands out front. She squinted her eyes and prepared for the pain when a soothing warmth encased her hands. Her body stopped moving forward rapidly and she felt herself being lowered to the ground gently. Her palms hit the stone of the path and she opened her eyes in disbelief.

Her arms were encased in a soft glow that was slowly fading. Sparks of yellow light left her fingertips and she fisted her palms to try and hide them.  _Crap_ , she thought, and she frantically looked around to see if anyone had noticed what happened. No one was around her and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Carefully standing back up, she brushed at the knees of her leggings and hid her still sparking hands in the pockets of her sweater. With a sigh, Hermione decided that it would probably be best if she just walked back home.

* * *

Vaults & Garden was abuzz with activity when Hermione entered right at nine o'clock. She quickly scanned the crowded cafe and spotted the bright, honeycombed head of Lavender sat by a table next to a large window. She grinned and headed towards her direction.

"Lavender!" Hermione exclaimed in greeting. Lavender Brown's head jerked upwards from her book and a radiant smile graced her features. The beautiful blonde stood from her seat and enveloped Hermione in a hug.

"Hermione! How wonderful to see you!" Lavender said and kissed Hermione on the cheek. She gestured for Hermione to sit before taking her own seat and putting her book away inside her tote. Hermione followed her lead and placed her book bag by the foot of the table. "How long have you been at Oxford for? You should've told me you would be here! We haven't seen each other in years!"

Hermione laughed and answered Lavender. "I was here about… a week ago? I've been so busy preparing for that lecture yesterday that everything else slipped from my mind! I'm sorry for not contacting you."

Lavender only smiled and grabbed Hermione's hand. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. I'm just glad you're here. And I heard that Dean Chester offered you a position in the faculty? Is that true?"

Hermione smiled brightly and nodded her head. "She mentioned it, yes. My work will be evaluated in three months' time before the year end. That means I need to polish up my research before then!" She exclaimed, and tilted her head towards the bag carrying her books and laptop. "I need to head to the library after this to get some work done."

Lavender only shook her head. "You are  _always_  working, Hermione. Look, if you are free tonight, the coven is meeting for the autumn equinox."

Hermione's smile faltered at the mention of "coven" and "equinox". Her eyes quickly looked around their table to see if anyone had heard Lavender. The blonde noticed her unease and sighed. "Hermione, are you still not practicing magic?"

Hermione looked down and gazed at her hands. She was reminded of what happened that morning and clenched her fists.

Yes, she was a  _witch_. Although it was a part of her that she rejected. She was made an orphan because of magic.

Creatures lived amongst humans. Witches and wizards, vampires, werewolves, centaurs, goblins… these creatures and more live in the mundane world, hiding in plain sight for fear of being identified and persecuted. Witches and wizards stick close to each other in covens and there were many magical communities spread around the world where they and other magical beings could let their powers run free and unrestricted. But different creatures rarely interact with each other. There was simply too much politics, tension, and conflict between the different kinds that it became widely accepted that creatures stick with their own. And these conflicts almost always attract human attention.

Hermione's parents were found to be witches and killed. She was only nine when it happened. Her parents were professors so she was used to their academic travels. It was just a normal Thursday evening when her parents left her in the care of her Aunt Olivia and her husband Richard to give a lecture at one of the universities in Brazil. They lived in Brighton, a seaside city south of London. Their family home was close to the beach that she heard the waves crashing against the boardwalk as she hugged her parents goodbye. The night before, Hermione's mum enchanted her favourite stuffed animal to read her favourite bedtime story every night with her own voice while they were gone. They promised her that they would be back in two weeks' time as she kissed them on the cheek and told them she would miss them. She remembered waving goodbye as the car drove out of their driveway after which her Aunt Olivia ushered her inside with a promise that they would call her parents every night if she wanted.

And the calls did happen and Hermione and her parents would talk about their day from either side of the equator. Until one night when they didn't pick up their phone. And her Aunt Olivia, who was also a witch and a good one at that, turned to her crystal ball to check on her brother and his wife.

Hermione remembered that ball crashing on the ground and shattering to pieces when Olivia knocked it over in horror at what she saw. Richard came rushing into the room just as the house phone began to ring. He picked up the phone and a minute later his face was drained of all colour. It was the British consul in Brazil informing him that Sebastian and Eleanor Granger were dead. They visited a small village in the south of Brazil where they were mobbed and persecuted for apparent witchcraft.

Hermione buried her parents a week later. Her teddy bear stopped reading her bedtime story a month after that, its magic all faded. Soon after, nine-year-old Hermione Jane Granger rejected anything magical. Magic was what got her parents killed and she would have no part of it.

Try as she might to be normal though, her teenage years was peppered with many magical mishaps. She  _refused_  to go to a magical school, so her Aunt and Uncle tried to teach her themselves. But her magic was fleeting and  _uncontrollable_. One moment she would be magicing her hair straight or changing its colour from its usual brown waves yet she couldn't even make her wandtip glow. She was already aversed to magic and so her seemingly lack of aptitude for the craft only widened the chasm between her and it.

From then on, Hermione simply learned to hide her magic. She busied herself with school which she  _did_  excel at and chose the path of the academics after her parents. She finished her undergrad, obtained her Masters, worked on her PhD alongside penning multiple books, and now she was back at Oxford for the next step of her carefully laid plans for her career.

She met Lavender's gaze who was looking at her worriedly and shook her head. "I don't… I don't use magic, Lavender. I can't really control it." She whispered.

Lavender's brows furrowed and encased Hermione's hands with hers. "Hermione, the coven can help you with that. Come tonight and I'll introduce you to everyone." She urged.

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. "No thanks, Lavender. I  _choose_  not to use magic."

Something in Lavender's eyes flashed and she squeezed the brunette's hands. "But magic is a  _part_  of you, Hermione. You're a  _witch_. You can't hide that."

"Magic was what got my parents  _killed,_ Lavender," Hermione said in a whisper, her voice hard. "I just want to be normal." She said resolutely.

The waiter came for their order and interrupted their conversation in time. The women broke apart and named their breakfast of choice with a strained smile on their faces. After the waiter had gone, Hermione and Lavender looked at each other in an uneasy truce. The blonde broke the silence with a soft sigh and clasped Hermione's hands again. "Alright, I'm sorry. I won't mention it again. Just know that if you  _ever_  need any help with magic, you can come to me. I'm your friend, Hermione."

Hermione nodded her head slowly and forced a smile to her face. "Thank you, Lavender," she said. She and Lavender had known each other for years, but they had always viewed magic differently. Lavender thrived on casting spells, making potions, and divination. She had gone to one of the very best wizarding schools in the world before deciding to pursue a career outside the magical community. She was a good witch who seemed to be climbing the ranks of the Oxford coven. Hermione was completely different.

Their food arrived and the women lost themselves in conversation, staying far away from magic as much as possible. They talked about their careers. Lavender told Hermione her struggles at getting professorship at the university. Hermione gave Lavender an overview of her last few years spent at Harvard before she decided to return to England to continue her fellowship at Oxford. The tension brought up by the mention of magic was gone as the two women reminisced over their undergraduate days in Cambridge.

Hermione glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that it was nearing noon. They had been at the cafe for almost three hours and had lost track of time. Their empty plates have been cleared and their coffee mugs sat empty. "Lavender, it was great catching up with you but I should really head to the library to get some work done!" Hermione said.

Lavender had also noticed the time and gave a smile. "Mind if I join you? I have some papers to mark and work to get done as well."

Hermione considered it for a moment and nodded her head. She had wanted to be by herself, but she had also missed Lavender's friendly company these past few years. They settled their bills and grabbed their bags, and together they headed out of the cafe and towards the library.

* * *

The Bodleian Library was an impressive structure of stone and marble. It was the second largest library in Britain and was home to some of the oldest and most valuable texts in the world across many different fields of research. Hermione was very familiar with the library, having done research for some of her published books there. The Bodleian felt like home and Hermione savoured the sight and smell of the stacks as she entered the atrium.

Lavender saw one of her colleagues and told Hermione she would rejoin her afterwards before walking across the floor. Hermione nodded and headed towards the call desk to request for the texts she wanted to peruse.

"Hello, Doctor Granger!" Anna, one of the desk staff, greeted Hermione. Hermione smiled at the familiar face and approached the counter.

"Anna! It is lovely to see you," Hermione said. She leaned across the counter and gave Anna a hug. Anna was one of the Bodleian staff who took requests for the rare texts stored in the vaults and not easily accessible by the public. She and Hermione had grown close as Hermione researched materials for her books.

"I've got one of your books I need your signature on," Anna said with a wink. "I'm assuming you're here for yet  _another_  research project?"

Hermione only laughed. "You know me too well," she said. "I've got the list of manuscripts I was hoping to look at today."

"Give it here and I'll deliver them to you. Your usual desk is empty, so go on in and I'll come by with these in a bit." Anna said. Hermione grinned widely and handed the other woman a list of three books she was eager to see with a huge thanks. She hauled her bag higher on her shoulder before heading towards the main research hall.

Large wooden stacks made of polished mahogany and filled to the brim with books lined the tall walls. Long desks made of the same material filled the centre of the room. Hermione walked to the desk at the very back of the room and situated herself right at the middle of the table. She always sat here since she liked having a view of the whole room and felt safer that there was never anyone behind her. Call it her witch's instinct to always be so guarded.

Hermione placed her bag on the floor next to her and retrieved her laptop from within. She placed the device in front of her and turned it on. Next she grabbed her notebook and pen and placed those next to her laptop. She drew a book stand closer to her vicinity and turned on one of the lamps that littered the desks. She was ready to begin her research.

Not a moment later, Hermione spied Anna enter the hall with her arms filled with books. Anna walked past the other patrons and stood in front of Hermione. "Here are your books, Doctor Granger." Anna whispered with a smile. "As usual, just return them to me once you're done."

"Thank you, Anna!" Hermione said softly. Anna smiled again before turning and walking towards the front of the room to assist another researcher looking quizzically at the stacks.

Hermione turned her attention to the books. There was no better word to describe them than  _old_. These books were ancient, with their thick spines and distinctive bindings. Their pages were rough and Hermione could see metal clasps on leather straps holding the books close.

Hermione gently lifted the book on the top of the pile and placed it carefully on the book stand. This was the smallest book on the pile and also the oldest book on her request list. Between the leather straps, faded italicized script held the title of the book.

_Chymische Hochzeit Christiani Rosencreutz_

On her laptop, Hermione quickly typed her notes. "Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz… German… leather bound and locked with two metal clasps."

Her fingers traced the leather straps before she slowly and carefully undid both of the clasps. She held the thick cover between her thumb and forefinger and slowly lifted. The book opened with a sigh. Hermione inhaled the familiar scent of an old book before she looked at its contents.

The first page was faded and made of thin and yellowing papyrus. The first spread had no text but contained an intricate drawing of a man dressed in kingly golden robes and crown standing on top of a golden sun. His left arm was stretched out, palm open, and perpendicular to his body as if waiting to be held. Hermione's fingers quickly drifted across her laptop keys as she took note of the drawing.

Carefully Hermione turned the page and beheld the next leaf. The verso page was blank, but the recto page contained another drawing. This one was all silver and depicted that of a woman in flowing robes and silver crown standing on top of a silver crescent moon. She had flowing hair down to her waist and her right arm was also outstretched, the palm also opened. Hermione carefully flipped between the two pages she just saw and noted that their palms would have met at the centre if not for the empty page. The drawings' faces were forlorn and sad as if a great chism separated them from being with each other. Hermione was in the middle of typing her observations when something on the page caught her eyes.

She blinked once. And then twice. And her eyes widened when she saw words and letters materializing on the once blank verso page behind the golden king. Her hand touched the page and suddenly… her heart thumped. Her blood pounded in her ears. She gulped and breathed heavily as she  _felt_  her blood flowing through her veins and  _heard_  her blood singing. Quickly she withdrew her hand and looked wildly around the hall. Everyone else looked fine. But then again… everyone else was also human.

Her eyes drifted to the page again and she gasped when the words started moving. Her hand moved on their own accord, hovering over the page, barely a centimetre above the papyrus. Her fingers lightly brushed against the leaf and the words  _flew_  from the page and onto her fingertips. She stifled a gasp with great difficulty. She saw the words, intelligible in their current form, flitter across her palms before disappearing into her skin. Eyes wide at what was happening, Hermione stood quickly from her desk and knocked her chair back against the wall.

"Shh!" Another patron in the hall chastised her. Hermione's mind was reeling that she paid them no attention.

She saw Lavender walking towards her, the blonde's eyes also wide with fear, and she stood in front of Hermione's desk. As if by instinct, Hermione slammed the book shut and laid her hand on top of it.

"Hermione!" Lavender whispered furiously. "Did you feel that? My blood... it's… it's…" Lavender trailed off, not knowing how to describe what just happened. Her blue eyes glanced around frantically and landed on the book. Her eyes widened as she felt the magic and the power emanating from the text. "Hermione… that book… it's enchanted."

Hermione glanced at the book underneath her palm and regained herself. Without a word to Lavender, she redid the metal clasps, scooped up her things back into her bag, and held the manuscripts close to her chest. "I'm sorry Lavender, but I… I need to go." With a nod of goodbye, Hermione quickly walked out of the hall leaving Lavender staring after her in stunned silence.

Hermione passed by the call desk and gave a weak smile to Anna. The librarian was surprised to see her so quickly and was even more surprised when Hermione deposited the three texts onto her desk. "Doctor Granger, you're done already?"

"Yes, thank you Anna," Hermione said weakly. "I'll see you later." With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, Hermione turned and walked out of the Bodleian Library. Anna only stared after her in confusion before picking up the books and pulling up the cart to return them to the stacks deep in the library's vaults underground.

The librarian in the stacks returned the books to their proper place, and as the  _Chymical Wedding_ slid into its home on the shelf it disappeared into nothingness.

* * *

He was minding his own business when he almost doubled over in surprise at the ringing in his ears. He was halfway through a lecture when his heart started beating so fast that he had to cut his lecture short. His students gave him curious looks as he made his way out of the lecture hall. Professor Potter was not known to let students out early. In fact, he had built a reputation around campus to fill every minute of his neuroscience lectures that students would still be scrambling to finish their notes as the next class was coming in.

Harry James Potter stepped out onto the quad of Queen's College and breathed deeply. The ringing had stopped but his heart was still pounding. He looked around with sharp eyes and saw no one else looking as alarmed as he was. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out and held it to his ear.

"Harry," the voice of Luna Lovegood drifted to his ears. Her usually calm voice was laced with confusion. "Did you  _feel_  that?"

Harry nodded to himself. "Yes," he said, his voice edged with apprehension.

"Our  _blood_  reacted to something, Harry," Luna said, voicing Harry's own thoughts. "The humans didn't feel any of it."

His sharp green eyes scanned his surroundings. There were a couple of undergrads tossing a frisbee on the quad and a group of tourists followed behind a woman as she pointed to the different buildings along High Street. Vendors lined the streets and it looked to be a normal autumn day with the one o'clock sun high in the sky. When his eyes couldn't see anything odd, Harry strained his ears.

Vampires have really good senses, and when he let his control go his ears were immediately bombarded with all manner of noise and conversation within a one mile radius. He heard the description of Queen's College the tour guide gave her charge. He heard a baby cry in its pram and the wheels of the carrier hitting the cobblestoned road. He heard conversations in different languages all around him and he quickly discounted the sounds one by one as he searched for  _anything_  that could tell him what might have happened just minutes ago.

"Andrei! Attrape ça!"

"Queen's College was built in…"

"Hör auf zu weinen…"

"Hermione! Hermione!  _What happened in there_?"

Harry's eyes squinted at the direction of the Bodleian. "Luna, I'll call you back," he said and hung up without waiting for a reply.

As he walked towards the Bodleian Library as fast as was possible for a human without drawing attention to himself, Harry strained his ears to pick up any sounds from this new voice.

"Hermione!" He heard the woman's voice yell again. "Hermione, wait for me!"

Across the street he saw a thin and beautiful woman with long blonde hair chasing after a brunette.  _That must be Hermione_ , Harry thought, as he looked at the brunette who was walking away from the Bodleian Library as fast she could with her head down. Harry's green eyes could see her knuckles clutching the shoulder strap of her bag with such force that they were turning white.

The fair headed woman finally caught up to Hermione and grabbed her shoulder stopping her from going any further. "Lavender!" Harry heard Hermione exclaim as she was jerked to stop. Her head sprang up and Harry heard himself gasp as his sharp eyes saw her features from his place across the street. Wavy brown hair tumbled from her head and framed a beautiful face. She had arched eyebrows, freckles peppering the skin around her nose, full lips, and the warmest brown eyes Harry had ever seen. He wondered just how much more beautiful they were if he could see them up close. Shaking himself from his surprise, Harry strained his ears to listen to them again.

" _What happened_ , Hermione?" Lavender asked again. "You felt it, I know you did! Something made our blood  _sing_ , and I think it was that book!"

At the mention of a book, Harry's eyes widened and he had to resist the urge to step forward and walk closer to them.

"The book you had… it was  _enchanted_. I could feel its power from across the room. Surely you felt it too, Hermione?  _How_  did you get it?" Lavender continued prattling on.

 _Witches_ , Harry thought, his suspicions confirmed. They were  _witches_. And whatever  _that_ was - this book? - that affected him and Luna also affected these witches.

Hermione finally spoke, her soft and shaky voice reaching his ears. "I just requested for it," Hermione said, voice laced with apprehension and confusion. "There was  _nothing_ magical with the  _Chymical Wedding_ when it was delivered to me, until…" Hermione trailed off and bit her lip.

Lavender looked at her, hanging on to every word. "Until  _what_ , Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head and inched her bag further up her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but I need to go Lavender. I'll see you later." Hermione gave Lavender a quick hug and walked briskly across the street. The blonde witch simply stared after her with her brows furrowed. She looked as if she wanted to run after Hermione but thought better of it. She shook her head at Hermione's direction before turning and walking away.

Harry's gaze followed Hermione's body as she walked down the street until she was out of his sight. The name of the book kept ringing in his ears.

The Chymical Wedding.

_Chymische Hochzeit._

He was plenty familiar with this book because he had spent hundreds of years looking for it. But he never found it. And now this  _witch_ had simply requested for it and it had emerged from the shadows? He needed to know more.

Harry turned his back from the street and walked towards his lab. He needed to tell Luna what he found out and he needed to know more about this witch.

 _Hermione_ , Harry thought,  _who_ are  _you?_

* * *

Author's Note: I am very well aware that I probably shouldn't start a new fic while I haven't updated SF in months, so please don't shoot me! This plot bunny was just too hard to resist.


	2. Chapter 2

" ** _The brightest flame casts the darkest shadow._** "  
\- George R.R. Martin,  _A Clash of Kings_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Harry sat on a high metal chair in his lab in front of a computer screen. His green eyes swept over the contents of the webpage with wonder as he read about Hermione Jane Granger, Oxford's latest history of science fellow. The brief profile on the webpage described her impressive academic career (undergraduate at Cambridge, Masters at Oxford, PhD at Harvard, and finally fellowship back at Oxford) and the book titles she had penned on the history of science. A smiling headshot was included with her profile and Harry couldn't help but take note of every single one of her features. She was beautiful and smart and Harry felt so drawn towards her.

The opening door of the lab took his attention from the screen to see Doctors Luna Lovegood and Noah Winchester enter. The tall and willowy form of Luna smiled and walked in his direction, bending down to kiss his cheek in greeting. Her eyes drifted to the computer screen and she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in question.

"Who is she?" Her voice the sound of chiming bells asked.

Harry turned around and faced Luna and Noah. Noah had also caught sight of the screen and looked at Harry expectantly.

"She found  _the book_ ," Harry said plainly, his words filled with emphasis.

Noah's brows creased in confusion as he walked across the room to get a better look at the computer screen. His form bent over the table and his hazel eyes scanned the page. "Doctor Hermione Jane Granger…  _she_  found  _your_  book?" Noah asked in disbelief. Harry simply nodded his head in silence.

"But how are you certain, Harry?" Luna asked. "You've been searching for the  _Chymical Wedding_  for  _centuries_. It's been missing for just as long. How can this girl just  _find_  it?"

"She's not just a  _girl_ ," Harry said, his voice turning hoarse. "She is a  _witch_ ," Noah and Luna gasped and their eyes immediately swivelled to the brunette. "And she's a  _Granger_. The resemblance is uncanny."

"You mean… Sebastian Granger and Eleanor Lancaster?" Noah asked, his thick brown eyebrows creasing with wonder and recognition as he gazed at the picture. Harry nodded, his lips in a tight line. Noah whistled, apparently impressed. "That's some bloodline."

"She's brilliant," Harry said, his eyes unmoving from the picture of Hermione. "And I think she had something to do with that  _phenomenon_  earlier today as well."

"Harry, what are you saying?" Luna asked worriedly, her silvery grey eyes quickly travelling from Harry's face to the face of the strange witch on the computer screen. "Was what happened witchcraft?"

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "I'm not a hundred percent certain what  _has_ happened and what  _is_ happening. All I know is that she was able to draw the book from the shadows when many have tried to find it for years. I  _need_  to know how she did it. I need to get my hands on that book."

"Harry," Noah began with apprehension. "Be careful. Once  _others_ find out about this, Oxford will be filled to the brim with creatures."

Emeralds turned to diamonds as his eyes hardened at the idea.

"I know."

* * *

Lavender looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed her dress. Her right hand gripped her wand before she hid it in the pocket of her purse. Her mind was reeling with what happened at the Bodleian that afternoon. Hermione Granger, the most reluctant witch she knew, had somehow called up a powerful and enchanted book from the stacks. Lavender wondered if she should keep this to herself, but knew that she couldn't even if she wanted to. Witches couldn't lie to other witches, and if the other witches in the Oxford coven asked how she was doing during their  _Mabon_  feast, she would have a hard time hiding what transpired earlier that day.

With a sigh, Lavender turned her attention from the mirror and steadied her breathing. It was time to face the coven.

* * *

Hermione paced back and forth in her bedroom as she recounted the events that had occurred that morning. She had returned to her rooms after she left the Bodleian and locked herself inside. Her mind tried to scientifically and logically explain what happened but she knew it would be impossible.  _Magic_  was what happened and she had no explanation for that.

Biting her bottom lip, Hermione grabbed her phone and dialled a memorized set of numbers. The line only rang once before her call was received and the familiar, soothing voice of her Aunt Olivia came on the line.

"Hermione!" Olivia said from the other side in greeting. "Richard, dear, pick up the other line! Hermione's on the phone!" Hermione couldn't stop a little laugh from escaping her lips as she heard rustling on the other side.

The voice of her uncle soon greeted her ears. "Hermione, darling, we've missed you!" Richard said.

"Auntie Liv, Uncle Rich, I've missed you too," Hermione said honestly. Olivia Granger and Richard White were the two closest people in her life and they filled the role of her dead parents. They raised her and took her in when she was nine and supported her in her academic endeavours since they, too, were professors.

Olivia immediately sensed something was off from the sound of her niece's voice. "Hermione, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Her question was met with silence as Hermione debated how to tell them what occurred that afternoon.

After a minute, Hermione began. "I was at the Bodleian studying when I found a magical book."

"You  _found_  a  _magical_ book? What do you mean?" Olivia asked, her voice turning shrill.

"I requested for it and it was pulled from the stacks and given to me. It didn't seem magical at first until I started reviewing it and saw words moving across the pages..." Hermione said and bit her lip again. Her unoccupied hand came to rub her temple as she felt the beginnings of a headache setting in.

"Was it a spell book? A potion book? Did you try to understand it? Did you see  _how_  it was magical? Where is the book Hermione? Do you still have it with you?" Olivia fired the questions in one breath.

"Of  _course_  I don't have it anymore, Liv," Hermione answered exasperatedly. "I returned it."

"You  _returned_  it?!" This time Olivia  _did_  yell and Hermione was forced to move the phone away from her ear to keep her eardrums intact. "Hermione! You  _know_  how important it is to at least  _try_  and understand any magical thing you come across!"

"Olivia, honey, calm down," Richard's voice said on the line. "Hermione,  _what_  was in the book?"

Hermione chewed at her bottom lip and hesitated telling her uncle what she saw. For some reason, she wanted to keep the contents of the book safe. "I only saw two pages, Uncle Rich," she started. "And they were just alchemical drawings. There was nothing special to them," she said, though she didn't really believe her own words. The drawings of the golden king and the silver queen were unlike any she had seen before.

"You need to get that book back and  _understand_  it, Hermione," Olivia said sternly. "It's about time that you stop hiding from your magic. This book came to be in your possession for a reason and it was  _foolish_  that you returned it! You. Are. A. Witch!"

Hermione was used to her aunt's nagging about her magical heritage. After all, she  _was_  a Granger and Olivia was an extremely proud witch. It would be hard not to given the Granger last name. She lived and breathed and  _thrived_  in magic. Their oldest known ancestor was Benedict Sebastian Granger.  _The blessed one_. It was he whom Hermione's father was named after and he was considered to be one of the most powerful wizards of their time. He was said to have been as powerful, if not  _more_  powerful, than Albus Dumbledore and Grindelwald themselves. Benedict mastered the arts of wandless magic and occlumency and every Granger that came after him were gifted in magic.

Everyone but Hermione, of course.

She could remember the whispers when she was younger. Her parents tried to shield her from it all when they were still alive, and her aunt and uncle took up the mantle after they died. But still, some of the words reached her young ears and have left invisible marks which had only turned to scars as she grew up.

When she was a toddler, the witches and wizards of Brighton would whisper in  _anticipation_. " _Granger and Lancaster… too much power… far too much power… she's going to do great things, this girl..."_ They said. The Granger bloodline was remarkable, yes, but the Lancaster name should not be discounted. Hermione's mother, Eleanor Lancaster, was an experienced potionmaster and seer. Any potion from the truth serum to liquid luck, regardless of complexity, was easily brewed by Eleanor. She also had an uncanny ability to correctly predict the future.

But as Hermione grew up, people expected  _more_  from her powers and young Hermione just did not deliver. When other children would be magicing sweets to levitate into their awaiting hands, to the mixed horror and delight of their parents, Hermione could not. Sure, magical children were known to have unrefined magical abilities before studying at Hogwarts or any of the other wizarding schools. However, they were still able to do  _some_ magic before they were of age to go to school. For the first five years of her life, little Hermione showed no signs of magical abilities that Olivia feared she was a squib. She was six and going to a Muggle pre-school when a schoolyard bully picked on her for her curly brown hair and a missing front tooth. That evening, after crying about it to her parents, she woke up in bed in the middle of the night with her hair blonde and straight and the gap in her teeth gone.

And then her magic was dormant again until her seventh birthday. And after that, no magic until almost eight months later. She was nine when she performed another bout of magic, but then not three months after it her parents were dead.

The whispers grew louder when she chose not to go to Hogwarts  _or_  Beauxbatons  _or_ Durmstrang despite receiving an admittance from all of them. Her parents had gone to and met at Hogwarts, and she lived in Britain, so her letter from there was expected. But the other schools wanted a Granger alumni and so they threw in their gauntlet. When she refused all three offers and chose to continue her studies in a Muggle school instead, the Brighton coven was almost aghast and offended.  _How_  could a Granger turn her back on magic?

" _Pity_ …  _such wasted potential…"_ The whispers said.

She was so glad to have left Brighton for university. It gave her autonomy, shielded her from the failed expectations, harsh whispers, and sympathetic glances back home. No one cared that she was a Granger at Oxford. They knew her name because of the hard work she had put into her career. Her family heritage was like an anchor she had cut from the line and left at the bottom of the sea.

"I'm a  _historian_ , Olivia," Hermione answered, exasperated. "I'm a scholar, a doctor,  _and_  I might just become a professor here at Oxford too. Dean Chester said she wanted to add me to their shortlist for review."

"That's absolutely wonderful, Hermione!" Richard exclaimed, pride emanating from his voice.

Olivia let out a loud sigh on the line. " _Alright_ ,  _fine_ , I get it. We'll talk about the book later but we  _will_  talk about it," she said grudgingly. "Congratulations, love, we're very proud of you," she continued, her voice sounding softer.

Hermione smiled across the line at the small victory of steering the conversation. "Thank you, although there is so much more I have to do to prepare…"

Hermione spent the next half hour chatting with her aunt and uncle about her work and they regalled her with stories about Brighton and their own work at the university there. It was only when Olivia realized the time and that she and Richard have to leave for the Brighton coven's  _Mabon_  feast that they parted with promises of more calls in the near future. Hermione hung up the phone with her heart full.

But as Hermione gazed at the full harvest moon through her opened window, her mind couldn't help but think about the book. She couldn't help but wonder what secrets that mysterious and powerful volume held. She  _knew_  she shouldn't have returned it so hastily. She  _knew_  she should have at least tried to find out more about the words flitting through the pages. After all, hindsight was 20/20. But she was so stunned by what happened that she acted defensively and tried to distance herself from the magic as much as possible which was what she had been doing for  _years_.

Hermione drifted off to an uneasy slumber with thoughts of silver and gold swimming in her head.

* * *

Lavender sat inside Rachel Thornton's home office as the coven leader bid the last of the Oxford witches and wizards goodbye. The feast of the autumn equinox, or  _Mabon_  as it was more commonly called, was a success and Lavender was glad to have seen so many of her friends that night. Like she expected to happen, Rachel clued in on the fact that something was nagging at Lavender and had asked for the younger witch to stay behind after the feast so they could talk. Secrets were few and far in between witches.

The door opened and Rachel entered the room. She was an older woman with dark black hair and a kind face. She walked across the room and sat on the couch next to Lavender.

"I know something has been bothering you, Lavender," Rachel said, and held Lavender's hands in her own. "You know that you can tell me  _anything_." She urged. Lavender bit her lip and nodded her head. "Now, what has happened?"

Lavender exhaled and began her tale.

* * *

The moon was still bright as he made his way through the dark streets of Oxford. There was hardly anyone outside as he walked through the stone pathways, staying in the shadows as much as possible. He walked east and soon found himself in front of a gate leading into a college quadrangle. The porter was inside his stone station watching a rerun of the football game on the telly.

He looked around the street and saw no one outside. He bent his knees and with ease jumped over the gate. His feet hardly made a sound as he landed on the other side in a crouch. A glance back at the porter showed that the man was still intently watching his game and was oblivious to what happened. With a billow of his long black coat, he walked further inside the college.

Harry followed the familiar scent of vanilla and honeysuckle until it took him outside a second floor window perched on a red brick wall crawling with ivy. He listened for any sounds inside and was content when he heard the steady breathing of deep slumber. When he was certain no one was outside to see him, Harry leaped into the opened window and entered her rooms.

He landed in her modest living room. The door leading to the hall was to his right and his sharp eyes saw a couch, a large bookshelf, and a desk pushed against the wall inside the room through the darkness. There wasn't a TV in sight and Harry smiled instead at the pile of books stacked high on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Harry immediately began searching. He walked to the bookshelf and read over each title quickly, his eyesight perfectly sharp despite the darkness. He commended her silently for sorting her books alphabetically by subject and author. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he moved on to her desk and then to the pile of books on the table.

The  _Chymical Wedding_  was not anywhere in her living room.

He glanced across the room and into the opened bedroom where he could see a form on the bed. Harry crept towards the door silently until he caught sight of Hermione Jane Granger laying in bed and half covered by her blanket. It looked as if she was dreaming because her head was moving from side to side and her breathing was turning uneven. Harry watched her for a moment and studied her; the vampire transfixed by the shadowy contours of her sleeping face. He didn't know how long he stood there for, until the witch in bed started  _glowing_. His vampire eyes widened as a light so faint emitted from her pores and enveloped her sleeping form.

Her breathing grew laboriously and Harry knew that it was the telltale sign of a nightmare creeping in. His steps brought him next to her bed and he looked down at the sleeping witch. Her lips were parted and he could see her eyes moving underneath her closed eyelids. A small whimper escaped her lips and Harry's hand instinctively inched towards her, his fingertips encasing in warmth as they touched her glow. Gently he brushed at a lock of hair against her face and traced her gleaming cheek with soft fingers. Hermione's head tilted towards his gestures and her breathing calmed, her form relaxing against his hand. The nightmare was dispelled. Soon the glow around her body dissipated and the room was dark again.

Harry removed his hand from her skin and stared at the witch. She kept surprising him. Common witches and wizards simply do not  _glow_. In his whole life, he had only heard tales of extremely powerful wizards emitting this luminescence. It happened when they have so much power that their bodies physically couldn't contain all the magic; almost like a cup overflowing with wine. He had so many questions in his head and not enough answers. There were only two things he was certain. First, Hermione Jane Granger was a powerful witch. Second, the  _Chymical Wedding_  wasn't there. Did she hide it someplace else? Did she return it to the stacks?

Since his purpose for being in her rooms that night was over, Harry turned to leave. But before he walked out of her bedroom, he grasped the edges of the blanket that were half strewn across her body and completely covered her with it. After one last look at the sleeping witch, Harry walked out of the bedroom, leapt through her opened window, and disappeared into the darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**“** **_There are winds of destiny that blow when we least expect them. Sometimes they gust with the fury of a hurricane, sometimes they barely fan one’s cheek. But the winds cannot be denied, bringing as they often do a future that is impossible to ignore._ ** **”  
** \- Nicholas Sparks, _Message in a Bottle_

 

\---

 

**Chapter 3**

 

Hermione woke up the following morning with remnants of a dream quickly fading from her head. She planned to get her work started early that day to make up for the time she lost yesterday. She showered and dressed into a pair of light washed slim fit jeans, white t-shirt, and a herringbone blazer. She took her long camel coat, slipped a pair of flats onto her feet, and grabbed her tote bag which she had not unpacked from last night. She looked over her rooms before she left and something nagged in her mind telling her something was amiss. She saw the window which she had left opened the night before and bent to close it securely. After another narrowed glance and dispelling the thought that her window wasn’t _it_ , she turned on her back and walked out of her rooms. She quickly walked through the stone archways of her college, waved goodbye to the porter at the gatehouse, and stepped out into the main street.

 

Oxford was just waking up around her. It was a Saturday morning and students were savouring their class-free day by sleeping in. The usually busy High Street was quiet as Hermione walked west on its stone sidewalks. She could never tire of Oxford. The light stone facade of the hundred year old-buildings lined the street. Colourful signs marked the front of the shops and Hermione passed by a used book store, a computer store, and a small cafe.

 

She slipped between a pathway in between two buildings and headed north on Catte Street. She passed by the cafe she and Lavender met at yesterday and a couple more steps later she was stood by the fresh green lawn outside the Bodleian Library. Hermione glanced at the watch on her left wrist and saw that it was just nearing 10am. The library would be opening soon and she was eager to get to her work.

 

She jogged up the steps of the library and entered the atrium. She made a beeline to the main research hall and tried to evade Anna who was already sat at the call desk nursing a steaming cup of coffee. She really didn’t want to explain her strange behaviour yesterday to anybody.  

 

But try as she might to be sneaky, the Bodleian call staff had already spotted her. “Doctor Granger!” Anna exclaimed in greeting. She waved her hand and Hermione had no choice but to walk over. “Good morning, Hermione. Early start on your research?” Anna asked with a bright smile.

 

Hermione gave her an easy smile and nodded her head. “Yes. I have a lot of work to catch up on today.”

 

“Would you be needing the same manuscripts you requested yesterday? You were barely with them for an hour!” Anna asked. At the mention of the texts from yesterday, Hermione’s brows furrowed. She knew that what Olivia said was true. She should try and get the book out again and understand its magic but right at this moment, Hermione didn’t think she had the courage to do so. She needed more time.

 

She shook her head gently. “I don’t think I’ll be needing any manuscripts today, Anna.”

 

“Alright then, Hermione! You’re the first one here so your usual space is still empty. Go on in and let me know if you need anything,” Anna said. With a nod, Hermione headed inside the main hall and towards her desk at the back of the room.

 

\---

 

She had been pouring over her notes for hours, her head bent over her laptop as she typed furiously on the keys. Her hair was up in a high ponytail and her tortoise shell reading glasses were perched on her nose. She read her notes, the gears of her brain turning as she connected points and formulated ideas. She glanced at her notebook and saw one title of a book circled which she had wanted to read for supporting arguments. Thankfully the library had multiple copies of this text and she knew exactly where it would be located.

 

Hermione stood up from her seat and walked to the stacks at the corner. A quick glance around the room told her the research hall was empty except for her, probably because it was the peak of lunchtime and the other library patrons broke from their studies to eat. Hermione made a note to grab some lunch after she looked at this book. She had missed her breakfast since she was too eager to work and her concentration took priority over her hunger.

 

Hermione scanned the shelves and spotted the volume she was searching for. The dusty tome was at the top level of the towering bookcase so Hermione braced herself against the wood, stood on her tiptoes, and reached her right arm up to try to get the text down. She wiggled her fingers as she inched higher but the book was just out of her reach. She exhaled in frustration as she lowered her arm and considered standing on the bottom shelf of the bookcase to gain more height.

 

But she couldn’t do that, because that would be breaking the library’s rules. So Hermione stood on her tiptoes again and tried to get the book down one last time. If she couldn’t get this then she would need to find a step stool or enlist Anna’s help to retrieve the tome.

 

All of a sudden Hermione felt _cold_ prickling the back of her neck. It felt as if an ice cube was sliding down her spine. She shivered against the bookshelf as her witch’s instincts alerted her of a _vampire_ nearby.

 

She didn’t have time to think, since the next thing she knew her nose was assaulted with the scent of sandalwood and bergamot. A hand reached from behind her and strong pale fingers grabbed the book she was reaching for with ease. She gasped as she turned around, ready to face the vampire that broke her solitude.

 

He stood five feet in front of her, his face clouded by shadows as he looked down at the leather bound book in his hand. His dark black hair was tousled on his head and he wore a dark grey suit that fit nicely around his frame. Hermione suspected they were tailored, since the man - no, the _vampire_ \- was tall, at least a foot taller than her, yet the legs of his trousers were at the perfect length above his brown brogues. A tie the shade of emeralds encircled his neck on which a tie pin made of polished silver was clipped.

 

“I believe you were reaching for this.” The vampire said in a baritone voice.  He lifted his head to look at Hermione and stretched his arm to hand her the book. Hermione was met with the greenest eyes she ever did see. His eyes were like the forest, deep and rich and _lush_ , and Hermione was reminded of the summertime. Ironic since his gaze made her feel so _cold_.

 

“Th-thank you,” Hermione stammered and grabbed the book with shaky hands. She held the book to her chest and the two figures just gazed at each other, waiting for the other to make the next move. Hermione had no doubt that this vampire knew she was a witch. It was hard not to with the keen vampire senses she had heard all about. He could smell her blood, and while she may not practice it, magic still flowed in her veins.

 

“I’m glad to be of help, Doctor Granger,” the vampire replied, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a half smile. Hermione wrinkled her eyebrows. This vampire knew who she was.

 

“You know my name,” she stated. “But I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage since I don’t know yours.”

 

“I’m Harry James Potter,” the vampire started, “Professor of neuroscience. It’s a pleasure to officially make your acquaintance,” he said. He offered her his business card and then his hand. Hermione took both reluctantly. Like the stories she was told and the things she read in novels, the vampire’s hand was as cold as his gaze. Icy fingers encircled hers and she remarked at how funny their clasped hands look, since hers was so much smaller than his and his fingers completely encircled her palm.

 

“Pleasure,” she said with a nod and released his hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my work.”

 

“Would it be too much trouble if I joined you?” Professor Potter asked, his green eyes inquisitive.

 

Hermione took this moment to really look at him. This _vampire_ , Harry James Potter - _Professor_ Harry James Potter - was quite the figure. If she hadn’t known any better, she would describe him as _inhuman_ . Do humans, when turned to vampires, immediately look… predatory? Because that’s how Professor Potter looked, even as he stood there unimposing in front of her. He was tall with a head of black hair and bright green eyes, the colours such a contrast against his pale skin. She spied a curious and faint lightning bolt scar on his forehead, slightly hidden by the hair that fell onto his face. He had a sculpted nose and pursed lips. His limbs underneath that perfectly tailored suit were long and lithe. Hermione could tell he was muscular, but not overly so. He stood so _still_ and silent as he waited for her answer, his chest barely moving since vampires didn’t need to breathe as much as their warm-blooded counterparts.

 

“So what do you say?” He prompted, an elegant eyebrow rising in question.

 

“You are free to use the library as you wish, Professor Potter,” Hermione said. “But I must be frank. I’m not sure how you know who I am or _why_ you would want to join me.”

 

A smile graced his lips. “You specialize in the history of science and I am a scientist. I’ve read some of your work, Doctor Granger. Your picture is in a lot of your books.”

 

Hermione raised her own eyebrow at his choosing not to answer her second question.

 

“You’re a vampire, Professor Potter,” Hermione said. “And you _know_ that I am a witch. Our kind simply do not interact. What is it that you want with me?”

 

The smile fell from his lips and Harry’s face turned serious. There was no misleading this witch, not that misleading her was his intention. He just didn’t know how to approach her. He watched her from afar; saw her walking down the streets as she exited her college. He hovered around the library that morning, debating whether or not he should talk to her inside. Soon he saw that it was lunchtime and heard no sound coming from the hall except for her heart beating and the sounds of her laptop.

 

There was no better time than the present, and so he walked inside the Bodleian Library’s research hall and saw her struggling against the stacks to get a book down. She looked so agitated and he could hear her frustrated sighs that the next second he was behind her with the book in his hands. He didn't understand why he did what he did. It was an invasion of her privacy and the last thing he wanted was to have her so guarded against him.

 

Harry looked at the witch and surveyed her from head to toe. She looked even younger in person (and in the light) than on her pictures, though Harry did know that she had just turned thirty. Tendrils of light brown hair fell on her face from her ponytail. He could see her warm brown eyes behind tortoise shell glasses looking at him warily, waiting for his reply. She was a lot shorter than he was but her limbs were strong and abled, evidence of the years of running and rowing which he knew from his research.

 

He leaned his back against the bookshelf and crossed his arms. Harry answered her. “Yesterday you found a manuscript which I have been searching for for many years. I want to know how you did it.”

 

Her brows wrinkled and her eyes shifted to the side as she recalled the events of yesterday. How did _he_ know what happened?

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione replied defiantly. She clutched the book she was holding closer to her chest. Instinctively she wanted to put as much space between her and this vampire.

 

“I know when someone’s being untruthful, Doctor Granger,” Harry said with a wry smile. “I can hear your heart beating faster. I know that you found the _Chymical Wedding_ yesterday. Do you still have it with you?”   

 

Hermione narrowed her eyes and tried to calm her heart. “Of _course_ I don’t have it with me. I returned it before I left.” She said, sounding aghast at the idea of breaking the library rules by taking a manuscript, and one as old as the _Chymical Wedding_ , outside the safety of the Bodleian.

 

“So it’s still here,” Harry remarked, his green eyes sweeping around the vast expanse of the research hall. “Will you be retrieving it again? Will you show it to me?”

 

Brown eyes stared in question. “What is it with this book? Why do you want it?” What could this vampire want with an alchemical manuscript?

 

“So you don’t know,” Harry remarked, almost in awe. “Yet you were able to get it. How very curious.”

 

Hermione let out a small, frustrated sigh. This vampire and the whole situation was starting to annoy her, really. All she wanted was to work on her research without being interrogated by anyone, let alone a vampire. He was also being very cryptic with her, his answers to her questions far from straight. “It’s just an alchemical textbook. Look, Professor Potter. If you want this manuscript so badly, why don’t _you_ get it? I returned it to the library yesterday, so you are more than welcome to request for it yourself.”

 

“That is my point, Doctor Granger,” Harry said, uncrossing his arms and standing straight up to look at her squarely. “It’s a great deal more than just an alchemical textbook. I’ve _tried_ to find this book for much longer than you can imagine. I’ve requested for it over and over again here at the Bodleian. It had always been _missing_ . Yet _you_ , a witch who don’t even know its significance, was able to retrieve it. I want to know _how_.”  

 

Her mind spun at what she had just been told. “Missing? But that… that’s not possible. I had it yesterday!” And she remembered it very clearly too. The book with words moving underneath the pages. The two figures, one of gold and one of silver. And the magic she felt as she touched it; how the words flew from the page and _into_ her. She remembered how the book made her witch’s blood sing.

 

“It was bewitched,” Harry said cleary. “Did you cast a spell? Perform a ritual? How did you break the magic that was keeping it hidden all these years?”

 

“I _don’t_ do magic,” Hermione said, her voice steely and guarded.

 

Harry looked at her, his emeralds eyes meeting her chocolate orbs.

 

_She_ doesn’t _do magic?_ Harry thought incredulously. He was reminded of her shimmer the night before and narrowed his eyes. How was this possible? Clearly there was more to this witch than what meets the eye.

 

Harry voiced a question which he already knew the answer to. “Will you get it for me?”

 

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “Absolutely not! If it had been hidden all these years then there _must_ be a good reason for it. I will not participate in whatever _this_ is,” she said, her hand gesturing between the two of them.

 

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled. She was a lot more than difficult than what he imagined. Granted, he did surprise her with his presence and perhaps he shouldn’t have been so abrupt with his questions. She sure was a firecracker when awake.

 

“Just as I expected,” Harry said. The sound of footsteps came from behind and Hermione and Harry looked to the front of the hall to see a library patron enter with her bookbag. Lunchtime had come and gone and the library dwellers were starting to return. “I think this is it for our conversation today, Doctor Granger,” Harry whispered. “But please be vigilant. There are a lot of people who want this book. I wasn’t the only one searching for it.”

 

“Is that a threat?” Hermione whispered furiously.

 

Harry shook his head. “No, Doctor Granger. It’s a warning,” he said, and somehow Hermione believed him. “Good day,” Professor Potter said, before nodding his head in farewell and turning on his heels.

 

Hermione watched him walk a couple of steps away before he turned and called over his shoulder. “Doctor Granger? Please eat. I can smell your hunger from here.”

 

The vampire walked out of the hall with the witch watching his every move. Hermione tried to calm her still furiously beating heart, her face flushed after his words.

 

_What just happened?_

 

\---

 

Lavender’s fists were clenched on her lap as she waited with Rachel in her office. At precisely six o’clock, Rachel grabbed her wand from atop her desk and performed a complicated swoosh above the wooden surface and muttered a spell.

 

“ _Trans revelare_.”

 

A white mist left the tip of the wand and hovered above the desk forming a hazy cloud. A picture started to materialize in the mist and Lavender spied the back of a plushed chair placed in front a large window decorated with heavy tapestries. Lavender could tell that they were looking into someone’s grand office. Soon after, a man came into view as he sat on the chair. He was finely dressed in a three piece suit the colour of oxblood. His nose was pointy, his lips pursed, and he had the coldest grey eyes Lavender had seen. His straight blonde hair was combed neatly and laid perfectly against the lapels of his jacket.

 

“Mister Malfoy,” Rachel said in greeting. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. This is Lavender Brown, a witch in the Oxford coven. Lavender, this is Mister Lucius Malfoy, one of the wizards in The Council.”  

 

“Pleasure,” Lucius Malfoy said, his voice surprisingly pleasant to the ears despite the demeanor on his face. Lavender could only nod in return. She knew who Lucius Malfoy was, of course, but had never met him before. “What was it that you wanted to discuss?”

 

Rachel looked encouragingly at Lavender. The blonde gulped before opening her mouth to speak. “There was this book from the Bodleian; a manuscript. I could tell it was really old from its binding. Its pages looked like papyrus and it had two clasps holding it close. It was small, no more than the size of both my palms, and it was… it was bewitched. I could feel how powerful it was from across the room.”

 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at the mention of a book. “ _What_ is its name?”

 

Lavender pursed her lips and her eyes drifted to the side as she tried to remember the name of the manuscript Hermione had mentioned outside the library. “It was… it was _something Wedding. Alchemical Wedding_ ? _Chemical Wedding_ ? Yes, I think it was called the _Chemical Wedding_.”

 

His eyes grew at the name. “If it is what I think it is then I have been searching for that book for years. _How_ did you get it?”

 

At this question Lavender hesitated. “Well… it wasn’t me that found it. It was… it was my friend. _She_ got the book.”

 

“And who is your _friend_?” Malfoy asked, the impatience showing clearly in the tone of his voice.

 

Lavender bit her lip. She felt Rachel grab her hand and the older witch prompted her to answer. “It’s okay, Lavender,” she whispered.

 

Lavender’s baby blue eyes locked with the steel gaze of the powerful man sat in his office across the mist. “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

 

His eyes flashed and a small exclamation of surprise left his lips.  “ _Hermione_ _Granger_ ,” Lucius Malfoy whispered, almost in awe. “I would have _never_ guessed.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


   


	4. Chapter 4

" _ **Hell is empty and all the devils are here.**_ "  
\- William Shakespeare,  _The Tempest_

* * *

**Chapter 4**

She was running late that morning. Her dream from the previous night left her confused and groggy when she woke up. All Hermione could remember were ribbons wrapped around her arms and legs and whispers of a tale of a prince helping her fly. She mulled over her dreams for a while, willing herself to remember all the details. She lost track of time and stayed in bed for far longer than what was planned. After taking a shower and quickly getting dressed, Hermione rushed to a cafe to grab breakfast before heading to the Bodleian.

She entered its halls thirty minutes after it opened. She stopped by the call desk and greeted Anna cheerfully.

"Good morning, Doctor Granger!" Anna replied. "It's a busy day at the library today," she added in an almost conspiratorial whisper.

Hermione's eyes turned to confusion. "It's a Sunday and the term had barely started!" She exclaimed.

"Oh it's not students, Doctor Granger," Anna continued in a whisper, her eyes shifting to the doors leading to the research hall. "They're older, academics it seems, and not all from Oxford either since I don't recognize many of them. I might have missed a memo of an event happening nearby," Anna said frowning. "Although we do have a famous researcher in there too. I've been to some of his talks and they were  _fascinating_."

Hermione frowned. "Well then, I should probably get inside and hope my spot is still free."

At this, Anna smiled brightly. "I made sure to reserve your table, Hermione, don't worry. I'll go in there with you to deliver the books he requested. He's sat at the spot next to you."

Hermione nodded her head and Anna rounded the table with her arms full of two aging textbooks. Together the two women walked to the set of propped open doors and entered the research hall.

Immediately Hermione's senses were assaulted with  _magic_. She may not do magic herself, but she  _was_  still a witch and some witches were gifted with keen instincts. Some, like her, could faintly sense the power of another being nearby, almost like catching a whiff of someone's perfume. The more powerful this witch or wizard, the more other beings could feel their magic. Usually, powerful wizards tend to  _hide_  their magic as to not draw any unwanted attention. Some of those in the room were not doing any hiding, however. They wanted the rest of the occupants to be aware of their presence and know what they were capable of.

All of the magic bombarding her senses was also giving her a headache. Hermione kept her gaze on the clock at the far end of the hall and tried to remember a trick her Aunt Olivia had taught her when she was younger. She concentrated on the clock, studied its shape, noted the text of the numbers, and  _listened_  for its movements. She honed in on the  _tick_  and  _tock_  the clock was making as its second hand pointed around the circumference. As she became astutely aware of the instrument, her headache began to fade.

Concentration was key when it came to warding off unwanted magical attention.

Her shoes clicked on the marble as she and Anna made their way past the stack of books and the long mahogany tables with its colourful occupants. Hermione noted that they weren't all magical; in fact, most of the library patrons were just ordinary humans. But still, the tables had at least a witch or wizard with their heads buried in a manuscript as they intently read.

Or rather, they were trying to make it  _look_  as though they were reading. Because as Hermione passed, their heads lifted and their necks turned to look at her. They didn't even try to hide their gazes, they met her confused eyes with their own. Some smiled, some nodded in greeting, some just looked at her until she was forced to look away. Hermione spied Lavender on a table in the middle of the hall with her study things scattered about. The blonde raised her head and gave Hermione a hesitant wave and smile. Hermione could only look at her in return.

What the hell was going on?

Witches and wizards usually don't mass in groups with  _humans_  around. It was far too easy to know that something was amiss, and even Hermione could tell herself. One wizard was blatantly twirling his wand out in the open. A witch she passed by smelled like an apothecary, wafts of cloves and dragonroot reaching her nose. Another wizard was dressed in an obnoxiously loud suit of purple and lime green. Thank goodness he wasn't hearing the pointy hat otherwise it would have been  _really_  obvious.

Why were they  _here_  in the Bodleian?

She and Anna reached the rear of the hall. She saw that her table was empty save for one person whose back was turned to the rest of the room. All she could see was a head of black hair bent over a book. A leather bound notebook was resting underneath his right hand with his fingers around a black fountain pen. Hermione spied the contents of the notebook and she saw notes written in elegant cursive. At least this one seemed to be actually working. She rounded the table and sat down at her usual spot, facing him.

His head lifted and Hermione sat face to face with Professor Harry James Potter. She had to stop an exclamation of surprise from escaping her lips as she felt the cool touch of his gaze. At the corner of her eyes she saw Anna carefully depositing the books she was carrying next to him.

"Here are the manuscripts you requested for, Professor Potter," Anna whispered breathlessly. "If you need anything else, please let me know," she added.

Harry's gaze didn't waver from Hermione's face as he nodded his head. "Thank you, Anna." He had to give a little smile at the look of surprise - and annoyance? - on the witch's visage as she continued to look at him silently.

Anna turned her attention to Hermione and bid her farewell. "I'll see you later, Doctor Granger." With a small wave of her hand, Anna turned on her back and walked out of the research hall.

For a minute the vampire and the witch just stared at each other. The former had a smile on his face while the latter had a clear look of agitation. Her nose wrinkled, her lips pursed, and she openly glared at him as she sat across the table. His smile only grew wider.

"Good morning, Doctor Granger," Harry greeted pleasantly. "What a nice surprise seeing you here."

" _What_ are you doing here?" Hermione whispered furiously.

"Researching," Harry said easily, gesturing to the books in front of him and his notebook half filled with ink.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I see. Well, happy researching then," she said in a clipped tone. She turned her head down and tried to look at anywhere  _but_  him. She busied herself with organizing her workspace. She carefully removed her notebook and a black ink pen from her bag as well as a stack of papers held together by a large clip. She liked to print out her typed notes and go over them with pen since the physical act of writing always helped progress her thoughts.

She read over the first line of her notes, and read over them again,  _and read over them again_  as she felt his gaze unmoving from her form. The coldness on her spine was growing and a quick glance upwards confirmed her suspicions.

He was looking at her. His green eyes were on her face, moving from one feature to another.

Harry examined the witch sat in front of him. He studied her hair; noted how the chocolate waves were tinted with light brown and how tendrils escaped from her bun to frame her face. He examined her eyes, saw how they were narrowed in confusion and agitation. They reminded him of the smoothest whiskey, aged with time and flavoured with the fruits of the earth. Harry felt as though he could get drunk from her.

"You're staring," Hermione whispered, blood rushing to the surface of her cheeks. She couldn't help but blush from his intense scrutiny. It seemed as though he was researching  _her._

One corner of his mouth lifted. "You're right. I apologize," he said. "Although, aren't you curious why the library is so  _busy_  this morning?"

Hermione almost forgot about the other occupants in the room. She looked past the vampire and saw the wide expanse of the research hall, its long and wide tables peppered with library patrons. There were about ten different witches and wizards scattered around the tables mixed in with the library's human occupants. Some of them had the decency to avert their gaze when they saw Hermione looking. Most were gutsy and openly stared, the books in front of them forgotten. Hermione spied Lavender gawking at her, no doubt stunned that she was talking to a vampire.

If she wasn't so irritated by the whole situation, Hermione might have found it funny. Because there she was, a witch, separated from her own kind by a vampire. She could tell some of them wanted to approach her. One witch near the door was trying to catch her attention, eyes wide and mouthing something she couldn't quite understand to the confused look of an undergrad near her. But no one would dare approach her, of course. Not with Professor Potter almost acting like a guard between her and them.

"They're looking at you," Harry whispered. "They want to see if you would bring up the book again."

Hermione's head jerked to look at him. Fire was in her eyes as she felt the anger and irritation creeping up her face. "They're looking at me because I'm talking to  _you_ ," she whispered furiously. "This is beyond ridiculous. I don't have that blasted book!" Hermione didn't bother lowering her voice as she let out her frustration.

"Shh!" A non-magical library patron hushed from the middle of the hall.

Hermione hastily stood up from her seat and repacked her bag. Her cheeks were red and she was breathing heavily. Would she  _ever_  be able to use this library again? Would witches and wizards and vampires keep following her around just because she found this book? She prayed that her little outburst was enough to deter them from coming back to the library. She had no intention to ever request for that book again.

With one last glare cast at Professor Potter, Hermione quickly rounded the table and walked down the hall towards the door. She could feel the ice on her spine from his incessant gaze. She could feel the other witches' gazes too, yet none of them were brave enough to approach her as she walked past their tables. The coolness on her back only dissipated when she rounded the corner and disappeared through the door.

Harry watched her as she stormed out of the hall. His pen was down and his notes laid forgotten. His body was half turned on his chair so he could watch her leave. A wizard to his right made an attempt to follow Hermione but a low, feral hiss from Harry's lips and a quick look from those sharp green eyes made the wizard stop in his tracks.

The message was clear. No witch or wizard could follow her, at least not with this vampire in the room. Harry knew his actions and everything that transpired inside the library would be twisted and retold over and over again. By sunset all the witches and wizards of Oxford and beyond would know that Hermione  _had_  the book. Moreover they would know that  _he_ , Harry James Potter, was somehow involved. Harry knew that he had just opened up the floodgates for more gossip and outrage. A vampire getting in between witches was unheard of and  _completely_  unacceptable, yet he had done that literally and figuratively with Hermione and the rest of the magical beings in the library.

Harry turned his back to the hall, to the witches and wizards radiating fear, and faced the table again. He hoped that his influence and reputation would deter any ill-intended advances towards Hermione.

A Potter was to  _never_  be crossed.

The last creature who did so met a gruesome end.

He hoped that his presence and the knowledge that Hermione no longer had the book would be enough to keep anyone else from Oxford.

* * *

A black limousine gleaming in the sunlight drove north on the A420. All of its windows were tinted obscuring the inside. An unmistakable crest stood tall and proud from the hood of the car which had many passersby squinting in curiosity. It was a crest they were unfamiliar with, made of an emerald shield flanked by two onyx winged dragons. A large platinum M stood proudly in the centre on top of a banner bearing a Latin inscription.

_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_

_Purity Will Always Conquer_

Lucius Malfoy smirked as another Muggle pointed at his vehicle in awe. How typical of Muggles. They really do get excited about anything. The only reason he was in this vehicle to begin with was because Oxford was still very much a Muggle city. He would never hear the end of it if Muggles needed to be  _Obliviated_ since he apparated in front of them. The rest of the Council would never let him forget too, damn them.

He frowned. The Council could not know about this. Not like he would tell the  _blood suckers_ in the first place, but even the other witches and wizards could not know. The book was his and his alone.

A cackling to his right drew his attention to his companion. A witch with wild black hair and even wilder black eyes was looking out the car's window. She was laughing at the attention their vehicle had drawn and was twirling her wand with her right hand.

"Muggles are so adorable," she cooed. "And so pitiful. Tell me again why we need to be in Oxford. You know I can't keep my magic hidden for very long, Lucius."

So he had heard. Lucius rolled his eyes behind her back and forced himself to answer the witch with patience. If things were to go south, having Bellatrix Lestrange's power and cunning on his side would be formidable.

"To get a book, Bella," Lucius answered.

The witch hummed. "This  _book_  better be worth all the trouble, Lucius."

"It is."

* * *

The scull glided gracefully on top of the river's surface. The only sounds which pierced the silence of the dark night were the oars rhythmically hitting the water and her breathing.

Hermione had a  _long_  day filled with annoyances and disturbances. After her disastrous study session at the Bodleian with the vampire doctor and the other witches, she had retreated to a cafe to review her research. A wizard which she hadn't seen in the library accosted her quite loudly until another vampire, this one a petite female with blonde hair, showed up at the cafe and the wizard retreated in fright. Hermione felt snowflakes at the top of her spine the whole time she was there even though the vampire didn't approach her. Whenever she looked towards the vampire though, the blonde would avert her gaze and continued typing on the laptop in front of her. Hermione only stayed at the cafe until she had finished her lunch. The cool kisses at the back of her neck were  _really_  starting to get uncomfortable. She left the blonde vampire seated in the cafe and walked back towards her college. The snowflakes followed her, however, but an exasperated glance behind her revealed yet  _another_  vampire. This one was keeping its distance. His auburn head was bent as he read the book in his hands with his back resting on the brick wall of a storefront. She soon realized what was happening when she saw a brown-haired witch across the street; the same witch she had seen in the Bodleian waving her hands frantically to catch her attention. The witch clearly wanted to approach her but fearful glances towards the reading vampire dissuaded her. Hermione watched as the witch stalked off in the other direction.

Hermione barricaded herself inside her rooms for the remainder of the day. Would this  _parade_  of magical beings ever stop? Could she  _please_  be left alone again like she was before this damn book materialized? She sat on her table for hours trying to get work done but she was far too agitated and annoyed. She had too much pent up energy that she couldn't sit or stay inside any longer. She dressed in her workout clothes and put on her running shoes. She locked her rooms behind her and walked towards the boathouse on the riverbank. She moved with practiced ease as she grabbed a scull from one of the hangers, hoisted it on her shoulder, grabbed two oars with her free hand, and walked towards the water. She lowered the boat onto the water's surface and carefully stepped onboard. Hermione reached over the bank and grabbed the oars she had set aside and started paddling like she was used to.

Now that she was rowing, Hermione allowed herself to think. She wished that her proclamation at the library that the book was no longer in her possession would make the witches, wizards,  _and_  vampires leave her alone. She wanted her normalcy back. She wanted to be able to do her work with no disruptions. She didn't have very long either. Her deadline to finish her research to be considered for a faculty position was fast approaching. She didn't need whatever  _this_  was getting in the way of her plans.

No, she couldn't have that. She had worked far too hard to break away from the magic in her life.

She didn't like that Professor Potter was complicating things.

Professor Harry James Potter of neurology had intrigued her as much as he scared her. She had done her own research of him after their first encounter and was awed to find out that he belonged to Oxford's All Souls College. It was perhaps the most prestigious college at the university which only accepted the most brilliant of minds. She had heard all about the grueling entry exam, of course. Its infamy stemmed from what many dubbed as The Essay. Candidates were given a one-word topic. It could be any word from "bias" to "water" and candidates were simply required to write about the topic however they desired. The papers were reviewed by members of the college before finalists undergo a final oral examination.

Hermione wondered what word Professor Potter had to write about.

It wasn't that  _he_  scared her. It was more of the unknown that he carried with him that made Hermione's heart beat a little faster. Professor Potter had many secrets. That was clear to her. He never told her why the book was so significant, only that he had been searching for it for a long time. She wondered how long was long to a vampire. Five years? A decade? Fifty years? More? She didn't know how old he was either.  _Physically_  he looked to be near her age. But his eyes held wisdom and knowledge one could not possibly experience in a single lifetime.

She wished she knew what was so important with the book.

She wished she knew why Professor Potter wanted it.

And she wished she knew why one part of her wanted to be near this vampire even though another part of her wanted to run away and hide.

She was breaking so many rules just talking to him. Not that she  _cared_  about those rules but they were rules she was made aware of all her life. Hermione could just imagine her Aunt Olivia's face if she knew the company Hermione had that day and what transpired at the library.

Witches and vampires were like oil and water. For as long as Hermione could remember, vampires were almost like outcasts in non-human communities. They weren't  _gifted_  with magic like witches and the other creatures. Hermione scoffed at the word  _gifted_. She thought magic a burden, but she digress. Vampires were different in that they had preternatural abilities instead of supernatural abilities. Their physiologies were human but what their bodies could achieve was far greater than any human or witch. They were stronger and faster. They had improved senses like the eyesight of an eagle and hearing like a bat. What other creatures feared of vampires was that they were virtually unkillable. They have the ability to heal quickly and many vampires lived for hundreds of years.

Hermione had always thought that this feud between witches and vampires was borne out of jealousy. The rest of her kind  _needed_  magic to survive. Most of them needed the little piece of wood to do  _this_  or to do  _that_. That's why most witches and wizards lived in magical communities where they could let their magic run free. Being without magic was suffocating.

The vampires, on the other hand, only need themselves.

This was why she wanted no part of that world. She didn't want to be reliant on magic nor did she care about the delicate politics between the different creatures.

All Hermione cared for was doing her work and doing her work  _well_. She was an academic, and all she wanted was a quiet life for herself, perhaps with a husband and children in a few years, as she taught history at the university.

Professor Potter was disrupting her plans and she was  _annoyed_.

Hermione rowed for at least an hour. Her strong arms moved the scull delicately through the river. Traffic on the River Thames at this late hour was nonexistent. It was also a foggy night, but Hermione trusted on her abilities and experience. She was familiar with the winding curves of the river, of its little estuaries and streams branching from the main channel, like the back of her own hand. Hermione could row through the River Thames with her eyes closed if she wanted.

She parked her scull where she entered the water and carefully disembarked. She bent down to pick it up and hoisted it over one shoulder. She walked to the boathouse in the dark, her shoes crunching the gravel on the path.

After Hermione entered the boathouse, she walked to the back where the sculls were kept. She hummed a little to herself as she gently set the boat on the hanger and pulled on the rope to elevate it on the stack. She was just tying the rope when she felt the familiar coldness at the back of her neck.

"Do you  _really_  think it's wise to be out here by yourself at night?" Professor Potter's voice came thundering from behind her.

She whipped around and saw the vampire. He was at the entrance of the boathouse. The streetlamp behind him was creating such interesting shadows on his face which only made him look more sinister. He was staring at her intently, his lips in a scowl and his green eyes dark with fury.

Hermione was never one to appreciate it when other people questioned her actions,  _especially_  if they had no right to do so. She let out an indignant huff and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She stared the vampire down, not caring that their eyes meeting only cultivated a blizzard inside her. She felt cold, but how  _dare_  this vampire ask her that question?

"I can take care of myself just fine, Professor Potter," she said icily.

Something in his mood shifted. He stiffened. He was so still, almost like a statue, as he stood there in the shadows. She saw his eyes change colour. They were darker now, like the colour of a forest at midnight. She felt the hair on her arms rise. She heard him growl.

In the blink of an eye, Professor Potter was towering behind her. His hand was curled softly in her hair, holding her head to the side exposing her neck. His other hand was on her waist holding her firmly in place. His face was inches from her skin. She gasped but held still, not knowing what to do. Was he going to  _bite_  her?

Harry breathed deeply. She smelled so intoxicating. He could get drunk from her scent and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her throat and taste her blood. There was fear in the air now. He could still smell her defiance, but it was mixed with terror and alarm. He smiled against her skin and only whispered in her ear.

"Is this taking care of yourself?" He asked, his voice as smooth as silk.

She extended her right arm and forcefully jabbed her elbow behind her hitting him in his stomach. His  _hard-as-rock_  stomach. Pain erupted from her elbow when it made contact but it did the trick since he let go of her. She immediately stepped forward before whirling around to face him. He didn't even look ruffled after just receiving an elbow to the gut and there was a bit of mirth in those eyes now.

" _Why_  are you here, Professor Potter?" She asked, her voice strained. She cradled her elbow with the other arm.

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he asked his own. "Do you know just how many creatures want to get their hands on that book? How many creatures would use  _you_  to obtain it? If it were some other vampire that found you tonight they would not have hesitated to bite you to get answers!" He shouted. This witch was really getting to him. His mask of careful indifference shattered when she entered his life.

"Why do  _you_ care what happens to me, Professor Potter?" Hermione asked. His presence was screwing with her brain. She couldn't think properly with him around.

Harry paused for a second. The witch asked a good question. "Because throughout the years I've been searching for the  _Chymical Wedding_ only  _you_  were able to find it," he saigh roughly.

"What is so important about this damn book?!" Hermione asked in frustration. She started pacing in agitation in front of him with her arms crossed. Her head kept turning to look at the vampire as she waited for his reply.

"Do you  _really_ have no idea?" Harry asked in a whisper.

She stopped pacing then and glared at him. "Don't patronize me, Professor Potter," she said coldly.

"I apologize," Harry said with a bow of his head. "I've never met a witch before who didn't know its value. Have you heard of the Book of Life?"

At this, Hermione scrunched her brows in thought. She had read more than her fair share of books and old manuscripts before but she had never come across a book titled as such.

She met his eyes and shook her head.

" _Chymical Wedding_ is what many believe to be the Book of Life. It is the book that described how witches  _and_ vampires came to be in this world," he explained in a whisper. He saw her eyes widen at his words.

" _Origin_?" She asked almost in awe.

Harry nodded his head. "Yes, like Darwin's  _Origin_ but for us creatures."

Hermione carefully considered his words, her mind racing. If what he was saying was true then she could understand why the book was so valuable. But that  _still_  didn't answer why  _he_  wanted it, nor did it give her any more of a clue as to why the book appeared to her.

Deciding that the second question was probably harder to answer, Hermione asked him the obvious.

"Why do you want it?" She asked softly.

His green eyes met her brown ones. The coldness she felt settled into a snowfall. " _Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards_ ," he said. "Understanding our past is key to living our futures."

"Kierkegaard," she mumbled.

He nodded. "Every single day the magic in this world is dissipating, Hermione," he told her. She breathed when he heard her name from his lips. That was the first time he ever called her by her first name. "Witches and vampires are a dying breed. Newer witches and wizards are capable of less powerful magic. Vampires are finding it harder to sire new vampires, nor do they have the  _desire_  to do so. This world is becoming more and more  _human_  throughout the generations."

There was silence in the air as he let his words sink in. He was studying her reaction carefully. Her brows were furrowed as she stared at the ground next to him, thinking over his words, dissecting it for information. When she looked at him again, he saw her eyes filled with confusion.

"But how could you possibly know this?" She asked him.

He had to smile at that. "The details would have to wait for another day, Doctor Granger, but I  _am_  a scientist. I've done my research."

Hermione's heart beat a little faster at the implicit promise that they would be seeing each other again.

"I  _don't know_  how to get the manuscript back," she said softly, at a loss of other words to say. "I'm sorry."

Professor Potter simply nodded his head.

Hermione bit her lip. "I should get going, Professor Potter."

"Of course," Harry said easily, although there was a big part of him that wanted her to stay. "Please don't let me keep you. Be careful on your way home."

She nodded in goodbye and turned on her heels. She walked towards the entrance of the boathouse. She could  _feel_  his gaze on her; she could feel the ice storm getting stronger and stronger with every step she took away from him.

She was so caught up on making a normal exit, on not running from her place and out of his sight, that Hermione didn't notice the loose rock on her path. Her left foot stepped incorrectly and the next thing she knew she was going down hard on the ground. Unlike what happened during her run, her magic wasn't there to stop her fall. She braced herself with her hands and felt the sting as her palms met the gravel.

She was burning with embarrassment. She quickly stood up and looked at her hands. They were scraped now, and she groaned when a little trickle of blood escaped from the cut.

The ice storm had grown into a tempest. She shivered and fisted her hands, trying to think of what to say to save face.

Hermione turned around with a smile on her face, ready to make light of the situation, ready to laugh off her fall. One looked at him stopped her in her tracks.

His eyes have gone as dark as the night sky. He was unmoving, his body rigid and tense. She could see his hands clenched into fist, his muscles taut. He looked like a lion waiting to pounce. He looked at her, his eyes wild as he tried to keep control. He swallowed heavily and she watched as his Adams apple bobbed in his throat.

She knew what he saw; knew what he felt.

She was the prey and  _he_  was the predator.

Hermione quietly drew her hands into the pockets of her sweater. The blood,  _her_ blood, needed to stop spilling. But she knew it was too late. The scent of her blood had already permeated the air. The hunt had already begun.

Her instincts told her to turn around and  _run_. Every nerve in her body told her to flee. She could feel her heart pounding faster, feel the sweat start to coat her skin. Hermione looked at the man, at the  _vampire_ , not knowing what to do.

A frightened whisper left her lips.

"Harry…"

With great difficulty, he opened his mouth to speak.

"Walk away, Hermione," he said in a pained voice. When she opened her mouth to say something again, his snarl cut her off. The words caught in her throat. "Turn around and  _walk away._ " He commanded, enunciating the words slowly.

She nodded her head and turned on her heels once again.

She took a step.

And then another one.

" _Go_ ," she heard him urge her in a growl. "But  _don't_  run."

With a tempest to her back and her heart beating fast, Hermione walked out of the boathouse and away from the vampire.


	5. Chapter 5

" _ **Our heaven is their hell, said God. I like a balanced universe."  
**_ \- Margaret Atwood,  _The Tent_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The rolling green countryside of the Scottish highlands passed by the windows of his car as he drove. Harry kept his gaze locked to the fortress peaking over the rock and steered the vehicle in its direction. Caisteal San Adhar was a citadel made of stone perched on top of a high hill. For unknowing eyes, the  _castle in the sky_  would look like an abandoned fortress lost to the times, broken and beaten by the many wars which ravaged the highlands over the centuries. But to Harry Potter, he could see the castle as it was meant to be seen. It was spectacular and grand, resting on top of the hill like a magnificent crown. Flags were unfurled and flapped gayly in the wind bearing the coat of arms of the castle's owner.

The car passed through the outer walls and into the inner courtyard. It rolled towards the main keep and stopped. Harry put the vehicle in park and promptly exited. He rounded the vehicle to get his bag from the boot before walking towards the large double doors of the keep.

His senses alerted him that three warmbloods were inside and his flaring nostrils confirmed their identities. The doors opened and Harry watched as his friend walked out of the keep to greet him.

"Harry," Draco Malfoy said in welcome. The wizard wore a suit of midnight black which brought out the silvers of his eyes and the platinum of his blonde hair.

"I told you you didn't have to be here, Draco," Harry said. He approached the wizard and the two clasped hands and hugged in greeting.

Draco rolled his eyes as they withdrew. "Yes, you did say that. However, I had a feeling that you  _needed_  someone here when we spoke," Draco said bluntly.

Harry considered his words before nodding. "You're right, I do. Let's go inside first and I'll tell you everything. How is Daphne?"

"Missing you as always," Draco said in answer to the question about his wife. "Sometimes it feels as though she misses you more than she misses  _me_ ," he added grudgingly.

Harry let out a little laugh. "Perhaps you should treat her better then, Malfoy." Draco only rolled his eyes at the comment. "And your mother? How is Cissa?"

"Enjoying her travels on my galleon," the wizard immediately answered. "Her portkey took her to Japan just this morning."

"Wonderful," Harry said. Two house-elves, the only other beings in the whole castle, greeted the vampire and the wizard when they stepped through the threshold.

"Masters," the male house-elf, known to Harry as Tobey, greeted with a respectful bow. "Please let Tobey see to your things, Master Potter," he said reverently.

"Of course," Harry said. He handed his bag to Tobey. The house-elf bowed once more before disappearing with a small pop.

"Would the Masters like something to drink, sirs?" The female house-elf asked in a squeaky voice. She wrung the material of her blue dress in her hands and waited for their replies.

"Serve some whisky in the parlour, Dolly," Draco ordered.

"Of course, sir," Dolly replied. With a pop, she too was gone.

Harry followed Draco towards the familiar room. The castle, which was more than a thousand years old, had seen some modernization through the years when the only Malfoy heir took ownership. Modern plumbing had been added, as well as heating, which made the stark castle quite cozy if Harry were to admit it.

Draco sat himself on a grand velvet chair and propped a foot on one knee. He quirked an eyebrow at the vampire who sat on the seat across a small round table. Dolly appeared a minute later and set two crystal glasses filled with two thumbs of whisky. She bowed once more before wordlessly exiting the room. When Harry heard the click of the lock of the parlour door, he picked up the glass and swirled the liquid.

His green eyes saw every colour of brown and gold inside the glass.

With a shaky breath, Harry took a sip and closed his eyes.

It wasn't the whisky he usually drank. It wasn't strong in flavour nor did it have the spice he was used to. Instead, its flavours were subtle. He could taste the earth and the flowers it grew. Violets, especially. He tasted honey. He tasted the rain and the sunshine.

It reminded him of her.

"What's going on, Harry?" Draco asked. The wizard looked at the man he had long considered a friend since he graduated from Hogwarts. There was something deeply troubling the vampire and Draco couldn't tell what it was.

"I'm  _craving_  her," Harry murmured, his gaze once again locked on the swirling liquid of gold.

Draco took his own sip and nodded his head, carefully considering his words. "Who?"

"A  _witch_ ," Harry said almost bitterly. He took another sip and slammed the crystal glass onto the table. He buried his face into the palm of his hand and expelled a shaky breath.

"You never do things half-arsed, do you Potter?" Draco mumbled knowing fully the vampire would hear him. "Now  _please_  tell me how you got yourself into this mess."

"She found it, Draco," Harry said. Two fingers went to squeeze the bridge of his nose. "It was… it was  _waiting_  for her."

"Right," Draco said, a tone of wry amusement in his voice. "And I am to assume that I should know what  _it_  is?"

Harry lifted his head and glared. Draco smirked at the frostiness in those green eyes. "The Book of Life. She found it."

A low whistle erupted from the wizard. "Never half-arsed indeed," Draco mused. He leaned back into the chaise and played with the crystal glass. He watched his friend - his  _best_  friend - look forlornly to the ground. What a very rare thing that was, a wizard maintaining a friendship - a  _close_  friendship, almost a brotherhood - with a vampire. But circumstances drew Draco to Harry when he was fifteen years old and still attending Hogwarts. It was during a very difficult time for Draco Malfoy when he accidentally met Harry Potter. Perhaps it was the act of rebellion which first prompted Draco to continue his association with the vampire. It was probably an act of rebellion too, and a little bit of compassion, for Harry to continue answering the then young wizard's owls. Regardless, the seed of friendship was sown between two individuals hundreds of years apart. Fifteen years later and their friendship was stronger than ever before.

Harry Potter's body was tense, a fist clenched atop one knee. He was scowling at the carpet with eyes unblinking. He looked pale; paler than what was usual for the vampire. The only other time Draco had seen him like this was when Harry told him of his past.

"I think you need something  _stronger_  before we continue with this conversation," Draco said decisively. He set the glass down with a clink and stood up. "Let's hunt."

* * *

Hermione started her day aware that she was being followed. As soon as she stepped out of her college, the prickly cool feeling of being watched by a vampire settled on her back. A very subtle glance to the window as she walked by allowed her to see the female vampire following her a few metres behind. Even as Hermione situated herself at her usual table in the Bodleian, she saw the vampire take a seat near the entrance of the research hall. The blonde's back was to her and Hermione saw her pull out a laptop and books. As busy as she looked, Hermione knew that the female vampire was aware of every movement she made.

Deciding to ignore the other creature, Hermione tried to focus on her work. At least this vampire (whom she had nicknamed "Celeste" for her almost white blonde hair and goddess-like features) didn't bother her. She was still feeling shocked about the events which transpired the previous night with Professor Potter. He had looked almost  _feral_  and it took every ounce of her self-control to not run away from him. Shaking her head, Hermione tried to concentrate. She shouldn't think of the professor now that he wasn't around her to be a distraction. She cleared her mind of all thoughts of annoying vampires and enchanted books and went to work.

Lunch came and went with the vampire following Hermione to the cafe of her choice and back to the library. The clock chimed two causing Hermione to glance up from her reading just in time to see Celeste stand up from her seat. Hermione watched as the other vampire she had seen around campus, the male vampire with auburn hair who reminded her of a lion's cub, take a seat in Celeste's table just as Celeste walked out of the research hall.

An understanding settled into Hermione. She glanced around the research hall and noted that apart from her and the vampire, there were no other creatures to be found. Her eyes settled on the vampire's back as she debated what to feel about it. On one hand, she  _certainly_ didn't need to be guarded but on the other hand, she could appreciate the silence and space the two vampires afforded her today. It was also best for their kind overall that not many creatures mingle, and if these two vampires were keeping the other witches and wizards at bay then she was grateful for it.

Hermione was about to avert her gaze from the vampire's back when she noticed him tense and his head whip to the door. She could see his hand grip the table fiercely that Hermione was worried it would splinter. There were other humans in the library and it would be unwise to draw their attention.

Unfortunately, the humans caught on that something was odd when two people walked into the research hall. Everyone seated on the tables watched as a man dressed in a fine suit with long platinum hair carrying a cane with a jewelled handle emerged from the entryway. They also noted the woman who trailed after him, for it was hard not to with her long black dress and wild black hair.

Hermione knew right then that there were magical, and she stiffened in her seat as she watched them walk down the hall. The vampire by the door had a fierce snarl on his handsome face which the wizard and witch ignored as they walked past. The vampire's head swivelled to follow the two magicals until they were standing in front of Hermione's desk.

"Ms. Granger," the wizard whispered. Hermione shivered at the coolness of his voice which slithered up her spine like a snake. The man bent down slowly to look at her and she kept her eyes levelled with his greys. "May I have a word?"

"What do you want?" Hermione whispered harshly. She looked around the man to see many of the patrons looking at their group curiously. "Look, I'm not interested in magic or whatever it is that you'd want to talk about so please leave since you're drawing attention to us."

The wizard smiled a slow, knowing smile. "You are as feisty as your mother. And you look exactly like Eleanor too."

There was a pause and Hermione's eyes widened. "You knew my mother?"

The man nodded, looking almost wistful. "Eleanor and I went to school together. My name is Lucius Malfoy and she was my friend. Please, Ms. Granger, I really need to speak with you privately."

Hermione was reminded of the vampire and a quick glance over Lucius Malfoy's shoulder showed her he was  _not_ happy with their exchange. The handsome vampire who had given her space had his face twisted in a fierce snarl. His eyes were in slits as he watched Malfoy's and his companion's every movement. When his eyes met Hermione's, he shook his head asking her to refuse.

But the man knew her mother. For reasons unknown to her at that moment, Hermione gave the vampire an apologetic look before breaking eye contact. She looked at Malfoy and his witch and nodded her head once.

"Alright. Let's talk."

* * *

Hermione followed Lucius Malfoy and the witch named Bellatrix Lestrange into one of the more upscale restaurants in Oxford. They were led to a private room by the host and Malfoy pulled the seat back for Hermione. She sat graciously and surveyed the duo.

They were quite the pair, she thought, as Mr. Malfoy gave their orders to the waiter. The wizard held himself with an air of superiority especially at how he treated their human servers. Hermione could feel her growing dislike for the man but forced herself to tamp it down for now. Her mother was friends with this wizard so he couldn't be that bad, could he? She turned her attention from Mr. Malfoy to look at the other witch only to see that Bellatrix Lestrange was already looking at her. The witch's black eyes were bright with interest and a small mischievous smile was on her face as she twirled her wand out in the open. Hermione averted her gaze and tried to look anywhere else but at the witch.

"Ms. Granger, Hermione… is it alright if I call you Hermione?" Lucius Malfoy began. Hermione nodded. "Hermione, I knew it was you the moment I entered the library since you looked so much like Eleanor."

"I don't remember my mother mentioning you before," Hermione said, testing the waters. She saw a glint flash in those grey eyes but he kept his tone steady when he answered her.

"We were  _unconventional_  friends, you see. I was in Slytherin while your mother was in Ravenclaw," Malfoy answered. "I was also one year ahead of her. But I recognized her power and potential early on. She was formidable in potions even at such a young age and that was my speciality."

"So you must have known my father too, then. You and he were in the same year."

At this, Malfoy pursed his lips and Hermione watched intently. "Your father was a Gryffindor," Malfoy said, as if that explained everything. Hermione could sense the man's disdain for her father in those few words.

"What is it that you want, Mr. Malfoy?" Hermione asked, getting to the point. She could feel her guards rising against this man and his companion. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea for her to agree to speak to them since they were making her uncomfortable and were starting to annoy her.

Lucius Malfoy's lips thinned as he looked at the witch in front of him. She was as beautiful as she was as feisty like Eleanor Lancaster. "You found The Book of Life, Hermione," Malfoy answered in a whisper.

She tensed at the mention of that damned book. "And why does it matter that I found it?" Hermione asked harshly.

Malfoy leaned back into his seat and crossed his hands atop his cane. Hermione shivered at his studying gaze but told herself to not look away from his cold eyes. She wouldn't back down from this. " _Chymical Wedding_ , The Book of Life," Malfoy started in a whisper. "It contains our  _origins_ , Ms. Granger. It tells us how humans, wizards, and  _vampires_  came to be in this world."

"That's just a myth," Hermione interrupted with a shake of her head.

A smile, almost like a snarl, crossed the man's face and he leaned forward. "The book contains the wizards' first spells. It tells us how  _we_  created  _vampires_ ," he spat the word out. Hermione watched as a fury crossed the man's face. "If we know how to create them… then we can find out how to  _uncreate_  them."

Hermione recoiled at his words and she stood up abruptly. Her seat fell backwards but she paid no attention as she looked in disgust at the wizard and his witch. Malfoy's face was unsurprised and the wild witch was looking at her with keen interest. "I am  _not_  interested in uncreating another species!" Hermione spat. She grabbed her bag from the foot of the table and sent a scathing look towards the two strangers. Her chest was heaving and she felt physically sick. "Have a good day, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Lestrange." She turned and left in a hurry.

After she was gone, Lucius looked at Bellatrix and saw the calculating look on the witch's face. Her dark eyes remained trained after Hermione.

"What a very interesting little witch," Bellatrix murmured in glee.

"I think we'll need to be a little more…  _forceful_  if we are to get that book," Lucius said.

He shivered when a sly smile graced Bellatrix's lips.

* * *

The stag ran; its strong, muscular legs crossing a great distance over the tall grass of the highlands. Its heart was pumping fast as its instincts told it to  _not stop_  and  _keep going_  for otherwise it would lose its life. But something strong and fast appeared in its way and the animal reared on its hind legs and was forced to a halt.

The figure in front of the stag was as still as a statue. Even though the buck was at least double the size of the man which stood in front of it, it didn't dare move from its place. The animal's eyes were wide with panic but there was an understanding in them too.

He had been hunted. For hours the animal and the man played the game of hide and seek until the man decided it was time to take his prize. The stag bowed its head in resignation, its long antlers touching the grass underfoot.

Harry approached the animal. The stag was a magnificent beast. Its antlers were winding as a clear depiction of its age. Rich brown fur covered its face and dark, black eyes peeked through the hair.

The animal had made him work for it. For hours, Harry tracked the stag through the craggy cliffs and grassy meadows with Draco. It was only fifteen minutes ago, though, that Harry decided to end the hunt and actively give chase to the animal.

Harry silently sent a prayer of thanks as the stag looked to bow its head in defeat.

This should sait his hunger for the hunt and the thirst for  _her_  blood for a while.

He pounced.

* * *

Hermione slowly and carefully steered the scull towards the riverbank. Tonight's row didn't do anything to calm her system. Her meeting with the magicals had left her feeling deeply disturbed and worried.

She wasn't naive. Hermione knew, despite actively trying to avoid anything unordinary, that the balance between the world of humans, witches, and vampires was shaky. The latter two always tried to tip the scales in their favour and the animosity between the non-human species was evident and clear.

Witches and wizards hated vampires.

Vampires hated anything magical.

And the humans were happily oblivious to the world around them. But, despite this, they were  _winning_  the war for if what Professor Potter said was true, then witches and vampires were a dying species.

But Professor Potter implied that that was due to natural selection. It was survival of the fittest and somehow, the humans were adapting to the changing world better than their counterparts.

What Lucius Malfoy and his witch wanted to accomplish with the help of the Book of Life was  _genocide_.

Hermione shivered, half from the cold and half from her recollection of the meeting earlier that day.

If what the wizard said was true then that book was dangerous.

Moreover, that book could  _never_  fall into the wrong hands.

Hermione grasped the ledge of the wooden dock and lifted herself from the scull. Once safely on land, she bent down on her knees to unclip the oars from the sides of the boat. She reached over and tried to undo the clip on the farthest side but it wouldn't budge. Frowning, Hermione reached over and tried again with more force. She was successful in opening the clip but in doing so her actions rocked the boat and the oar that was attached to the clip fell into the water.

"No!" She gasped. Her right arm extended forward in a clear sign of trying to grab the wooden handle but it was no use. The oar sank beneath the dark surface. " _Damn it!"_  She cursed.

She sighed and quickly detached the other oar nearest to her. She was about to stand from her position when a faint glow started to form where the oar fell. Astonished, she looked at the spot of water and watched as the wooden handle emerged from the waves.

Eyes wide, Hermione quickly reached over the boat and grabbed the item. She cradled the wet oars to her and stood. Thankfully, it was dark out and no humans were around to watch her accidental magic.

But someone  _did_  see her display.

"Little witch, I thought you knew better than to break our rules," Hermione heard from behind. She swiveled on her spot and saw Bellatrix Lestrange at the end of the dock.

The witch almost blended into the night. Her porcelain face shone in the moonlight and an unwanted shiver ran down Hermione's back as she stared at the woman's black eyes.

"I don't care much for  _your_  rules," Hermione said. She watched a smile grace Lestrange's blood red lips.

"I knew your mother also, Hermione," Lestrange said. Hermione glared at her silently. " _She was one of us_. She was  _my friend_. As her only daughter, you owe it to her to  _care_  and  _follow_  the rules she lived by."

"Don't you  _dare_  talk about my mother like that," Hermione spat.

"Rule number one," Lestrange said, ignoring her words. " _Magister artis tua._  Master your craft."

Hermione stared.

"Rule number two," the witch continued, " _Magicae enim nostrum_. Magic is  _ours_. No human or vampire should be blessed with our gift."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Bellatrix Lestrange cut her off.

"And rule number three," she said, "the most important rule of all…  _Magicae primum_. Magic comes first. Your family comes first. Your coven comes first. Your fellow witches and wizards come first," Lestrange said, enunciating every word. "We do not  _fraternize_  with our  _enemies_ , Hermione. You should know better."

"You have  _no right_  to tell me what to do," Hermione said fiercely.

Bellatrix Lestrange simply shook her head. "Don't be naive, little witch. Your mother wouldn't want that."

Hermione watched the other witch stare at her silently for a few more seconds. She felt violated. The black eyes were probing and searching and Hermione felt as though she was being examined underneath a microscope. She hardened her mind like how she was taught by her father when she was younger. She knew that magic could penetrate someone's thoughts and she'd be damned if she let this witch do the same to her. She didn't breathe until she saw the smirk on Lestrange's lips.

"Fascinating," she heard her whisper. "Until later, Hermione." There was a bang and the witch with the wild black hair and wilder black eyes disappeared from sight leaving Hermione alone once more on the dock.

Hermione stared at the spot where the witch once stood and promptly made up her mind.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was tangled into this mess surrounding an enchanted book that she had unknowingly called from the stacks.

Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange weren't to be trusted. In fact, she was very much certain that they were dangerous.

It didn't feel right to bring her aunt and uncle into this. She wouldn't approach Lavender either, even though she remained to be Hermione's only magical friend.

That left her with one person to turn to who seemed to know the most about the book.

With a sigh, Hermione decided to approach the vampire.


End file.
